


War & Peace

by Mickey_Milkovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Dystopia, Gen, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:10:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4457840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mickey_Milkovich/pseuds/Mickey_Milkovich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a World War abolishes all government, four colonies are created and run by those strong enough to claim them. The Compound, the most mysterious of the colonies, is handed to Terry Milkovich's three children after their mother and brothers are brutally murdered by it's former leader. Despite their young ages, they quickly gain a reputation as the most brutal and violent leaders of the four colonies, which is exactly what they want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Visuals

**Author's Note:**

> This story will not be updated until my first story is finished, which will be soon. I've had this written for a while and I wanted to put the prologue out there to see if people would actually be interested in this story. I've got the entire story planned out, and a lot of it written, I just need to tune it up, flesh it out, and put it in order so I can post it. Please let me know if it seems at all interesting to you. Sorry for posting it without the intention of updating for a bit but I'm sure it'll help motivate me to write more if I know people would actually read it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've created a bunch of visual aides that I'll be adding to as the story goes. I know things seem complicated in this story, so I figured maybe seeing what I'm talking about will help.

This is basically 'Murica the way I'm working with it. Why is it all flooded? Cause I wanted it to be. It's way way into the future. Dams break, ice melts, whales take more pees, so the sea level rises and bye bye rednecks in the South. I put the borders around the different colonies, labeled them, etc. It's also kind of hard to see, but I marked the routes they each take to get to the common grounds and how many miles it is, along with how long it takes them to get there (approximately). I also want to add that the usual weather these places get as of right now means nothing. If I want it to snow where it doesn't snow, it's gonna fuckin snow, then it's gonna be sweaty ballsack hot the next day cause I want it to be. Do you know what the weather is gonna be like 300+ years from now? Nope, so I just might be right about this shit.

 

This is where Mickey, Svetlana, and Yev live. Isn't it nice? Don't ask me how they got all these cool, nice things cause I don't know. They  just have them. It's called fiction, and I can give them whatever I want. Including but not limited to herpes. The room at the top right is Mickey's, the one to the left of his is Svetlana's and the little one is Yev because he's a kid and he gets the shit end of the deal when picking bedrooms. At least he has a dartboard. Mickey doesn't have a dartboard. Let's get a closer look at their domicile!

 

 No, it's not perfect but I made it with an iPhone app while I was sitting on the toilet at work so it's pretty damn okay if you ask me.

 I'm working on Ian's apartment etc. right now so whenever places are mentioned, look for notes to find out if I added to this chapter to show more pictures. Hopefully the visuals will help!

 

 


	2. Prologue

Everyone always knew that another World War would come, they just didn’t think it would be as bad as it actually was. By the time it was all over, if it ever really ended, most of the Earth’s population had been wiped out, save for a few million across the planet, but nobody really knew how many people had actually survived. In the years after the most devastating blows. There were the usual bombs and assassinations, there was martial law but it could only last so long. People realized that if the militaries and remaining government officials were eliminated, there was nothing stopping them from absolute freedom. So, that’s what happened. Civilians ambushed military and government officials, gaining weapons and followers each time until there were none left. It took years for there to be total anarchy and once there was, people understood why it was so vital to those who used to be in charge to fight against it. Power fell in the hands of those who were able to take it and anyone who couldn’t defend themselves either died or were taken as property.

It was 340 years after the first act of war, that the four colonies, completely unaware of each other, were created in different parts of what used to be the United States. There was no telling where each colony was located for each leader, which was what they wanted- to live the way they wanted without the interference of others. They became aware of each other slowly, starting when two of the leaders- a man named Armond and another named Cedrick met while traveling, both attempting to find survivors. They spent days camping out, earning each other’s mutual respect, and discussing whether or not there were more survivors. They devised a plan to leave something for anyone who may stumble upon what seemed to be mutual ground. Letters were left pinned to trees, with the date that Armond and Cedrick would return. In the letters, they said they were peaceful and only interested in mutually beneficial relationships and absolute respect of one another. The day of their return, they were greeted by two other men- One named Isaac, and another named Terry. Each of them also had their own followers. All of them had walls built around their vast colonies to protect them, which had been done before the four of them even took over. The four of them decided to live in peace with each other, but not with others. They agreed that any stragglers, which they referred to as "Properties", would be detained and brought to the Common Ground, where they’d be put up for auction for the four of them to claim as their own, to do with what they pleased. The auctions took place in a building specifically built for “the Round-Up” as it was called, and the Stragglers would be brought in and stripped naked for the leaders to examine and negotiate about the ones they wanted. Usually, it was peaceful, but if things got heated, and more than one leader wanted a certain Property with neither willing to back down, lower ranking members of each colony fought for their leaders, sometimes to the death. There were times even the leaders themselves fought, if the haul was particularly desirable. The winners took what they wanted.

They also agreed to keep their locations to themselves, which posed a problem for communication. So, an agreement was made. Homes would be built on the Common Grounds at the center of the colonies. Living in them would be neutral parties, two from each leader, who would be well compensated in equal shares by all the colonies in return for the secrecy of each location. They were called the Messengers and they would be responsible for correspondence and were to be immune to any violence or threats. Any violence toward any of the Messengers, or their families was considered an act of war and the offending colony would be attacked by the three remaining, who would be given details and the location by the other Messengers. They were not to be bribed. Anyone who attempted it would be punished, which was exactly what ended up happening.

Armond, bored with his nearly empty colony, attempted to gain information from the Messengers when they came to deliver news of the Round-Up that he was late for. When he was refused, he attacked, killing one of the men who had come. The other was chased back to the Common Grounds by Armond, who was in a crazed mental state. He was stopped and killed by Terry, but not before he managed to murder Terry’s wife and two of his sons. As an act of sympathy, the Properties in the Round-Up were given to Terry, and because the location of Armond’s colony still remained a secret, it was offered to Terry to ease his pain. He didn’t accept right away, and it was left alone until the day came, months later, when Terry requested letting his remaining children take over Armond’s colony. Terry was a hard man. He spoke more with his fists than he did with his mouth and seemed to be in a constant state of anger since the death of his wife and two sons. It was known amongst them that though he loved his remaining children, the sight of them only reminded him of what he had lost. Knowing it would be nearly impossible to run more than one colony at a time themselves, Isaac and Cedrick agreed to allow Terry’s children to take over the forth colony. The three of them were handed over to the Messengers and taken to their new home, the location of which even their father didn’t know.

The colony was nicknamed The Compound, due to it’s seemingly impenetrable walls, which Armond had built up out of paranoia. And upon the Milkovich children’s arrival, it was in a state of disarray. They managed to get things in order and quickly developed their own way of running things, which would become somewhat legendary considering how barbaric they were rumored to be.

Cedrick ran The Deathgate, which had a bad reputation, as people seemed to constantly escape only to be recaptured and sent back to the Round-Up and bid on again.

The West End was owned by Isaac who took pride in his colony, as it was the biggest, as well as the newest of the four.

Terry nicknamed his colony California, simply because he’d read a lot about the place, and it seemed like he would’ve liked it, had it still been around. He’d always been a simple man.

The first time Terry’s kids showed up for a Round-Up, they weren’t taken seriously. Isaac and Cedrick had questioned Terry’s judgment when they saw the three of them, but Terry kept quiet, as he usually did, and let his children speak for themselves. He’d raised them from childhood to adapt to the way the world was now. Due to the vastly different climates they were surrounded by, the three of them were excellent swimmers, hunters, and survivalists. Their bodies were trained to be able to withstand days without food while drinking minimal water. Terry told them all from childhood that everything was in their head. Fear, pain, hunger- none of it really existed and they could overcome all of it. At times, they’d even go days without sleeping, which happened a lot at the start of their reign over The Compound.

The oldest, at 20, was Iggy, whom everyone simply referred to as “Kid”. It started as a joke- a complete lack of respect on everyone’s part because they wouldn’t call him by his name, but it stuck and he soon got used to it. He was blond like his mother with his father’s eyes and was known for his temper, which was another thing he inherited from his father. People learned early on that there was no calming him down once he got to a certain point. They also learned pretty quickly that when he hit, he hit hard. He was good with guns and was never seen without one tucked into his pants or strapped into a thigh holster that he’d made himself out of old belts. He was intimidating and people often tried to get around talking to him at all costs, preferring to talk to either of his younger siblings.

The twins, Mickey and Mandy, were 16 when they inherited The Compound. Both had the black hair their father once possessed and their blue eyes came straight from their mother. Taken even less seriously than their older brother, they had to work twice as hard to gain good reputations.

Mandy, being a girl, had it the hardest. It was rare for women to have any power in a world that was run by brute men, and for a 16-year-old girl to have more power than most grown men was unheard of. Still, she held her own with limited interference from her brothers. Early on, she learned that being underestimated would work to her advantage. As she got older, she also learned that men’s weaknesses would be her greatest weapon. Her brothers mocked her for it early on, but Mandy’s ability to play dumb and look pretty lured people into a sense of power, where they were blindsided. She always came out on top. Of the three, she was usually the one to do negotiations and her sarcasm sometimes led to more physical fights rather than verbal scrapping over Properties.

Mickey, who was a mere 6 minutes older than his twin, was not nearly as loquacious as she was. Preferring to silently observe, he, like Mandy, was always underestimated in the beginning. He wasn’t as tall as his brother, nor as scary looking as his father, but neither of those things mattered. Of all the Milkoviches, Mickey seemed to be the angriest, though he hid it well. He didn’t tolerate anyone questioining or challenging his family, and people were usually dead before they hit the floor if they ever laid a hand on Mandy. It was often joked about that if Mickey was ever handed a gun, he’d throw it when threatened simply on instinct since his preferred method of fighting was throwing knives. It always made his father proud the way people sat down if Mickey stood up to them.

Though they were originally thought of as a joke, in ten years time, the three of them made a reputation for themselves as the most vicious and ruthless leaders of all the colonies, and their reputation spread so far beyond the common ground, that when they won an auction at the Round-Up, the Properties wept and begged to be taken anywhere but with them. It had even been discussed that they be removed from power once it was obvious that the three of them favored children, and won any auction where they were presented. That discussion brought up the fact that doing so would be imposing each person’s individual beliefs into the way things were run, and that was simply something they wouldn’t do. So, the Trio, as they were sometimes called, continued with their practices and holding the cleanest record for escapees. It was said the only reason people didn’t escape The Compound was because they simply weren’t alive long enough to even try.


	3. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered finishing this fic before posting any of it but decided if I did that, nothing would ever be put up because I take too long to do anything. So, maybe posting this and possibly getting some feedback will encourage me to stop being a lazy piece of shit. Hopefully you like it, and hopefully I don't lose track of all the details and mess up in the future.

The weather was always unpredictable. There was a time when certain parts of the world had certain weather and, for the most part, it was expected to stay that way. However, the world had changed. It seemed one week, they’d be facing snow storms and days later they’d have a heatwave so bad that nobody could even go outside. They preferred the cold when they went to the Pit, however. It was bad enough that they’d leave the place covered in blood and god only knows what else. They didn’t want to be soaked in sweat on top of it.

They’d been sitting for a while, none of them saying a word as Iggy sat at the edge of the Pit, staring down at the body of a little girl who was naked, except for the underwear they left on her. Her skin had turned a bluish gray color and the snow around her was bright red- blood that had come from several stab wounds in her abdomen that Iggy had inflicted nearly an hour before. He’d calmed down since then and the jittery mess that he’d been when he’d committed the act had switched over to anger. His younger siblings watched him as he got up and walked to the wagon they used to carry whomever or whatever they chose to bring out. The unconscious body of a man lay draped over, his knuckles and the tops of his feet bloody from dragging on the ground the entire way out. Iggy grabbed a handful of his hair and Mandy lifted the small camera she’d been holding. Mickey watched as she pressed record, capturing Iggy dragging the man down into the Pit and hurling him next to the girl’s body. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a syringe. Taking the protective cap off, he stabbed it into the man’s throat violently, then tossed it aside, squatting over him and waiting for him to wake up. Mickey nudged his sister’s back and she stepped halfway down, closer to her big brother but far enough away to assure she’d be out of the way.

“C’mon, Owen.” Iggy said, slapping the man’s face to wake him up. He woke, blinking and confused. It wasn’t until he turned his head that he knew where he was.

“Oh fuck-”

“Oh fuck is right.” Iggy said, nodding. He grabbed Owen’s hair again, rougher than he had before, and spit in his face. “Mick.” Mickey tossed his brother a gun and as Owen tried to crawl away, Iggy fired two shots, hitting each of his arms near his elbows, making him collapse. He gave the gun back to Mickey and took the baseball bat he was offered. Mandy moved to get a better angle.

“You need me. You think you can-” His sentence was cut off as Iggy shattered both of his kneecaps without hesitation. He tossed the bat aside and took a knife and gun from Mickey. Walking back to Owen, Iggy knelt down next to him and grabbed his throat, leaning in.

“Was she worth this?” He asked, so quietly that Mandy’s camera couldn’t pick it up. He squeezed Owen’s throat harder, cutting off his air. “You can still nod, Owen, fucking answer me. Was what you did to her worth what I’m doing to you?” Owen shook his head and Iggy let go of him, letting him catch his breath. “You’re gonna die out here.” He said, loud enough for the camera. Owen began crying and shaking his head and when he looked at Mickey, he saw a small smile on his face. “Listen.” Iggy leaned in close again. “How this happens is up to you. You say what I want you to, and you make it believable, it’ll just be a shot to the head. Quick, alright? You don’t, I’m using the knife.” Owen didn’t respond, he just kept crying. “Keep crying. Tell us we killed her. We killed your daughter. Act like her life fucking meant something to you.”

“You fucking killed her!” Owen yelled, hysterical. He sobbed and shook his head. “You killed- You son of a bitch!” Iggy nodded and tossed the gun aside, lifting the knife. “No- You-” The blow to his chest knocked the wind out of him, and he didn’t even have time to know what was happening as the next one came. By the tenth, he was already gone, but Iggy didn’t stop. His rage had come back and he pulled the knife, ripping Owen’s body open until there was nothing left to hold his organs inside. He stood, stumbling, and grabbed the gun. Walking away, he handed it, along with the knife, to his brother, who took both weapons as if they weren’t soaked in blood. Mandy continued filming for a couple more minutes, getting different angles and zooming in before turning it off and staring down at the little girl.

“Fixing her up here or at home?” Mickey wiped his hands off on a towel and watched Iggy walk away.

“Take her home. We got a lot of work to do on her before the burial.” He took out a couple cigarettes and lit them, handing one to Mandy. She put it in her mouth and grabbed a rolled up blanket they had shoved in the wagon. Mickey went for the bottle of lighter fluid and waited for his sister to lift the little girl onto the blanket and wrap her up. She carried her up the slope and placed her in the wagon before Mickey began pouring the fluid on what was left of Owen’s body. Once he ran out, he tossed the bottle next to him and dropped his cigarette, igniting him instantly. Mickey stepped back, watching for a few seconds before he joined his sister.

“Are we waiting?”

“No, the snow will put it out. There’s nothing out here to burn anyway. Let’s go home.” He grabbed the handle of the wagon and walked with his sister. Iggy had a head start and didn’t slow down to let them catch up.

It was a long walk home. They’d discussed the idea of using one of the cars to transport everyone to and from the Pit, but decided against it, agreeing that no part of it should be easy. None of them spoke the rest of the way and when they got to the internal gate, they were let in and the twins were immediately met by Kevin.

“Iggy okay? He just went straight home. Didn’t say a word.” He walked to the wagon and gently lifted the bundled up blanket out, holding the girl’s body close as if she were still alive.

“This one hit him hard. He was the one that gave the okay for Owen to take her in.” Kevin nodded and looked at Mandy.

“You need a break? Vee and I can get this one.”

“No, just let me get cleaned up. Mick, take a shower.” Mickey looked at her as if he were offended.

“Like I wouldn’t fucking take a shower? I have blood all over me.”

“Take your shoes off before you go inside.”

“Yes, Mother, anything else?” Mandy shook her head and headed off to her apartment. “Jesus Christ.” He walked over to Kevin and grabbed the girl’s hand, which was dangling out of the blanket, and tucked it back in. “What did Ned find?”

“Well, obviously, she’s been beaten and it’s been going on for quite some time. Owen kept it where he could hide it. She had a couple broken ribs. Some mild fractures that had already healed. The hit to the head killed her.” Mickey nodded and looked away.

“If you get a chance to talk to Iggy, do it, please. He listens to you.” Kevin nodded. “See you at the service.”

“Yeah.”

They parted ways and Mickey walked to his apartment, kicking his shoes off before he walked inside. The sound of an angry Russian woman going off about something came from the laundry room, so he quickly slipped over to his bedroom and into the bathroom. He stripped down, draping his clothes over the rack his wife insisted he used, and stepped in the shower before turning the water on. When he did, he waited for it to warm up before ducking his head and pressing the showerhead against his scalp to massage it. The water ran down the sides of his face so he closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth after having been outside in the snow for so long. Once the chill was off, he replaced the showerhead and actually began washing himself, scrubbing under his nails, in his ears- anywhere any blood or dirt could’ve gotten. He wasn’t in the shower for fifteen minutes before there was a single knock and the door swung open. He looked through the glass door at his son, who checked outside the bathroom before continuing.

“Can I got to Steve’s?”

“What’d your mom say?”

“I said no!” His wife walked into the bathroom and he found himself growing more annoyed, standing naked in front of them and just trying to get clean.

“Why are you coming to me if she said no?”

“Tell him why I said no. Tell him why I grounded you.” She said, furiously swinging her hands around as if she’d been arguing with him all day.

“Spit it out.” Mickey ordered.

“I took Kendall to the armory.” He said, ducking his head down and lowering his voice. Mickey shrugged his shoulders and looked at his wife for an explanation as she slapped the boy in the back of the head.

“He took Kendall _into_  the armory, _with_ your key, _while_ we were asleep.” Mickey looked at his son, who would no longer make eye contact.

There were feelings Mickey had discovered upon becoming a father that he never could’ve imagined he’d feel before his son was born. There weren’t even names for some of the things he felt. With what his wife had told him, he was feeling a level of anger that was hard to keep controlled. It was mixed with a nearly paralyzing fear because of what could’ve happened, though it didn’t, and on top of it all, dread because his son was trying to impress girls by lying to his parents.

“I got it.” He said. His wife nodded and left. “Go sit down.” His son nodded and Mickey turned the water off, grabbing a towel and drying his hair before wrapping it around his waist and following his son into the room. “Sit down.”

“Dad-”

“Yev, I swear if you start this off by backtalking, I’m gonna end up slapping you in the mouth. Sit on the fucking bed.” His son obeyed him, hopping onto the bed and keeping his head down. Mickey turned and grabbed clean underwear from his dresser, slipping them on under his towel and then draping it over his shoulders. “Talk.”

“Neither of us touched anything. Your key was right on the counter and she wanted to see what the armory looked like so I told her I’d show her. I opened the door, we walked in, then walked right back out. That’s it.” Mickey nodded.

“That’s it.”

“Yeah.”

“You know why Iggy, Mandy, Kev, and I are the only people with keys to the armory?” Yev stared at him, which was obviously difficult for him. “Because everyone out there trusts us.” His son nodded. “Why did I leave my key on the counter?”

“Cause you forgot it.”

“Because I trust you. Everyone out there trusts me to keep all that shit locked up and my dumb ass trusted you to be smart enough to understand that some girl, who doesn’t give a shit about you if she’s asking you for shit like that by the way, is not worth the trust and safety of literally everyone in this place. I can’t even ask what you were thinking because you weren’t thinking, were you?” He knew better than to argue with his father, so he simply shook his head. Mickey walked to his closet and pulled out a shirt, buttoning it up as he stared at his son. “And then your mom tells you no, so you come to me. Like she and I don’t butt heads enough, If I’d’ve said yes, that’s a fight between us, and a punishment for you, so- _again_ \- you weren’t thinking. So, I’m gonna tell you what. Whatever punishment your mother gave you is doubled. She grounded you for the armory shit, I’m grounding you for disrespecting her. So go get ready, we have another funeral.” Yev got off the bed and looked at him.

“Who?”

“Emily.” He grabbed some black pants and pulled them on.

“Did she get sick?” He looked at his son and felt his anger melt away. He was just a kid, and he didn’t know how things actually worked. He didn’t know how dangerous what he had done was. He didn’t know how horrible people could be.

“Owen killed her.” He said bluntly. He didn’t want to lie. He wanted his son to know.

“Did you kick him out?”

“We took him to the Pit. He’s not coming back. Go get ready.” With that, his son left the room as his wife walked in.

“Don’t tell him what you do out there.”

“I didn’t. How long did you ground him for?”

“Six months.” Mickey raised his eyebrows.

“Six months? I told him it was doubled.” Svetlana crossed her arms.

“Good. He’s grounded for a year. He won’t be taking teenage sluts around showing them guns.” He looked at her.

“Teenage?”

“Kendall is fifteen. Your son is ten. It’s disgusting.” Mickey had to agree. He nodded and she walked over to him.

“Keep it at six? I think that’s enough.” She fixed his hair with her hands.

“You’re too soft on him.”

“Well it’s kinda hard to punish him right now when I’m just happy he’s alive.” She stared at him and nodded.

“Six months. You watch him tonight I’m going to Nika’s.”

“Can’t. We’re leaving for another Round-Up right after the service.”

“I canceled enough.”

“What do you want me to bring him? You want him out there?”

“I didn’t say that.” They stared each other down for a few seconds.

“Let him go to Steve’s. Just for tonight. Punishment can start tomorrow.”

“We’re shit at discipline.” She responded, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, we’re shit at a lot of things.”

The services were always simple. There were no speeches, it was just everyone paying their respects. There were times there had to be a closed casket due to the damage done to the bodies, but Iggy hadn’t had it in himself to do too much damage to Emily. He did the bare minimum- stabbing her in the stomach and chest as Mandy filmed. The footage would be edited to change the color of her skin before it was sent to whomever was willing to receive it. Mickey had noticed how far back Iggy stayed, watching everyone go up to the simple box she’d be buried in. By the time everyone who came had gone up to put flowers in with her, she was covered in them. That was when the oldest Milkovich walked up.

“How much makeup did you put on her?” He asked, not looking away from the girl’s face.

“Not a lot. Just to get rid of the paleness.” Mandy said.

“She looks like she’s sleeping.” Mickey nodded and squeezed Iggy’s shoulder before grabbing his sister’s wrist and pulling her away to give Iggy room.

“You wanna let him sit the trip out? Maybe he needs time to deal with it.” Mickey shook his head once they were out of earshot.

“He’d leave right now if he could. You know him, he needs to keep busy or he goes insane. We’ll let him do what he’s gonna do here and leave.”

“Hannah said there’s only one kid tonight. Five others, all men.”

“How old?”

“The kid? She wouldn’t say. Can’t give details and all that.” Mickey nodded and straightened his posture as Iggy approached.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He mumbled, walking between them.

Mandy looked at Mickey and followed their older brother.

The trip from the Compound to the Common Grounds was over 500 miles. It usually ended up being about a seven hour trip one way, which apparently was nothing when compared to the trip from Deathgate. Either way, it was dangerous both to travel to the Common Grounds and to even be there. Though it was gated and heavily guarded, there had been instances where those put up for auction rioted. Most ended up dead, but not before taking out members of the four main colonies.

“Where’s Yev?” Mickey asked. Svetlana handed him his jacket.

“Said he was going to Steve’s early. I told him he had to say goodbye to you, but he ran out.”

“What the fuck is up with him?”

“He’s an asshole. He gets it from you.”

“Cause you’re not an asshole.” Mickey retorted. She smiled and shoved him out the door.

“Should’ve kept the doubled punishment.” She said.

“Yeah, maybe.” He walked away without another word and headed to the gate, where their van was parked and waiting. He approached Kevin, who was looking over a list he had.

“You’re ready to go.”

“We got everything?” Mandy asked, walking up.

“Yeah. I packed enough sedatives for ten.”

“There’s only six people up tonight.” Mandy informed.

“Yeah, well I packed enough for ten.” She nodded and got in the van.

“Thanks, Kev.”

“No problem. I changed the armory locks, too. Gave Iggy three keys for you guys. Keep it on you this time, alright?”

“Fuck you.” Mickey replied, climbing into the passenger seat.

“You’re so sweet.” Kevin closed the door for him. “Don’t be gone too long, guys. I always miss you when you’re away.” He reached in through the window and ran his fingers over Mickey’s face, making him lean away and slap Kevin’s hands.

“The fuck off me!” Iggy climbed into the driver’s seat and started the van.

“Alright, see you when we get back.” Kevin nodded and backed up, signaling for the gate to be opened. When it did, Iggy inched toward it, slipping the van through as fast as he could, waiting until it closed completely before he drove toward the outer wall. The gate there opened faster and he made the same maneuver, making sure the gate was only open for the shortest amount of time necessary. Again, he parked and waited for it to close before he drove off.

There was never much conversation on the trip to the auctions. Every couple hours, they traded spots so they each had to drive. Dividing the work up equally was something they tried to do, no matter the task. In the end, Mandy ended up driving an hour longer than either of her brothers had and Iggy was asleep when they arrived. They got out of the van and each took turns placing their hands on a pad outside the gate. Once they were each scanned, Iggy typed in their password and the gate opened. They all hopped back in and drove inside. The building where the auctions were held was built next to a lake. It gave a beautiful backdrop to the building, making it somewhat deceptively beautiful considering what happened inside the walls.

They got out of the van and headed inside, immediately looking to the stage where Isaac and Cedrick were both examining the men that stood there. None of the three of them had time to get a good look before their father approached them. There were never any hugs between them. Terry simply held up a duffel bag, which Iggy took.

“How much do we owe you?” Terry shook his head.

“Consider it your birthday gifts.” Mandy smiled and took the bag.

“Thanks.” Mickey said.

“How’s the haul?” Iggy asked, nodding toward the stage.

“I’m just here for the booze. You got like one or two people are gonna fight over and the kid people have pretty much assumed you’re gonna take so they’re not even looking at him.”

“Why are they gonna fight over them?” Mandy asked, looking toward the stage.

“Well, the black guy apparently knows a lot about weapons. He actually managed to make some kind of gun when he was in lockup.”

“How the fuck did he do that? There’s nothing in those cells.” Mandy said, shocked.

“Exactly. That’s why they want him. Resourceful and smart. And the redhead was part of some kind of rebel militia. They had to ziptie his hands cause he killed a guy before they even got him off the bus.” Mickey looked to the stage and saw the black guy his father had mentioned, getting his face grabbed by Cedrick, who examined him like he was some kind of animal. Then, he scanned them for the other one his father mentioned- the redhead- and found him standing slightly in front of a smaller boy who looked like he’d pretty much just given up. He kept his eyes on the boy, who didn’t even lift his eyes as Isaac approached him. His attention was drawn back to the redhead as he saw him step further in front of the boy.

“Alright it looks like we’re all here so since everyone’s already had a look except you three, why don’t you take some time to check out-”

“They don’t need time we already know who they want.” Someone said, cutting one of the Messengers off. Iggy looked over angrily, stepping forward. Mandy dropped the bag and followed as her brothers walked further into the room. The three of them ignored what had been said and sat down at a table.

”We‘re good.” Iggy said.

“Alright, everyone sit down, then. Let’s start negotiations.”

“You think we should try for one of those two? Maybe we can use them.” Mandy said, leaning toward her brothers.

“We’re not here to grab your next boyfriend, Mandy.” Iggy said, earning himself a backhanded slap.

“You’ve got someone who can make weapons out of nothing and someone who had to be restrained before coming in here, alright? None of that’s ever happened before.”

“True, and we’re not here for them.”

“Since when do you get to make the final decisions?” She asked, getting angry.

“You wanna fight for them, fight for them. I’m fucking drained and I couldn’t care less who we take home.” Iggy said quietly, losing his patience. Mandy looked away, frustrated.

“Alright, I’m assuming you three want that one?” One of the Messengers asked, looking at the trio and pointing at the kid. Iggy nodded. “Okay, so-”

“Fuck this.” Everyone looked toward the door to see a man, presumably one of Cedrick or Isaac’s guards, walking up to the stage. “They take them every time!”

“They win them every time.” The Messenger added. “So, the little one goes to-”

“Why? So they can just kill him? We could use this kid! Any of us could and nobody’s gonna put their foot down? You’re all just gonna stand by and let them get what they want when you know they’re just doing it to prove they can?”

“You want him, you can fight for him.”

“I don’t want shit from here but that doesn’t mean they should get what they want.”

“Well there’s rules, so-”

“Rules.” The man said, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, so what’s gonna happen is that those three are taking this one?” He asked. The Messenger looked to Iggy, who nodded. “And we all fucking know what they’re gonna do, right? And nobody’s fucking sick of them wasting-”

“What they do with who they take is nobody’s fucking business.” Terry said angrily.

“Oh, alright. Alright, so your Daddy’s standing up for you now.” Iggy stood up. “Here, let me just speed your fucked up process along, alright?” There was no time for any of them to react as the man pulled out a gun and shot the boy in the head. From that moment, it was chaos. The focus was on the man- who turned out to be with Isaac. Iggy rushed him and tackled him to the ground, which started a chaotic fight so confusing that nobody saw the other potential properties rush off the stage. Mickey tackled one of the men that was trying to pull Iggy up, but froze when he heard a scream coming from outside.

It was instinct. He couldn’t explain how he recognized it or how he was so sure. All he knew is that he was on his feet and out the door before anyone else even knew what was happening. The sight he was met with froze his entire body. It had never happened before because he’d never felt fear like he did at that moment. He’d never had such an overwhelming sense of dread and confusion hit him so hard that he couldn’t even move. Not twenty feet in front of him, right next to the van, a man had his ten-year-old son pinned to the ground with a gun to his head. Yev’s face was bloody and he was crying, trying to get away. It must’ve only taken a second and Mickey didn’t register it until his son yelled for him, but someone tackled the man, throwing him off Yev and began pounding on him. Mickey ran as fast as he could and grabbed his son roughly, picking him up as if he weighed nothing.

“What the fuck are you doing here? How did you fucking get here? What did he do?!” He pushed Yev’s face back to look at it and all he saw was blood. “What the fuck did he do?” He pushed Yev’s hair back and saw a gash in his hairline, along with a cut on his lip and one by his eye. The boy was hysterical. Mickey let go of his face and Yev cried into his neck, smearing blood and tears into the collar of his shirt. “You’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re alright.”

“What the fuck-” Mickey looked and saw his father, staring in confusion as Mandy ran out and gasped at the sight of her nephew.

“Where the fuck did he come from?” Mickey looked over and saw the scuffle still happening by the van, only now, the man who attacked his son had the upper hand. He shoved Yev to the side for either his dad or sister to take him and walked over as his son cried and screamed for him to come back. He didn’t listen. Instead, he ran at the man and tackled him. It took a couple seconds for him to take out a knife and stab the man in both shoulders, making it too painful for him to swing back. He held his throat, squeezing so tight that his hand was shaking. He’d never felt the kind of rage he was feeling and his mind was running in circles, trying to decide between responsible and paternal.

“Who’re you with?” He loosened his grip and the man shook his head. “Tell me who the fuck you’re with. That’s all I wanna know and I’ll let you go. I want him, not you.”

“Isaac.” The man spat out. Mickey’s knife was in his throat before he could say another word, and that should have been the end of it. His hand shook as he pulled the knife back and shoved it in again, sawing to the side until he’d managed to cut through half of the man’s neck. Blood came from him so fast it was like a pump was forcing it out and when he finally looked up, he saw the redhead from the stage sitting in shock and bleeding from his mouth. He had blood on his hands and the ties were cutting into his skin. There was no time to focus as his son’s voice rang in his ears and he got to his feet. He walked back over and took the boy from his dad, squeezing him.

“You’re alright. Calm down, you’re fine.”

“What the fuck is going on out here?” Mickey’s eyes shot to Isaac as he exited the building. He looked over to the bloody mess by the van and Mickey saw his expression change for a split second. “Okay, get that one back inside, this isn’t over yet.”

“It’s over.” Mickey said loudly. Everyone looked at him. “That one’s ours. You do whatever the fuck you want with the rest. We’re taking him.”

“Well you’ve got some competition-”

“We’ve got shit. I swear to god, Isaac, anyone in there that goes up against me right now is gonna die and it’s gonna be bad.”

“It’s not up to me to tell them not to. I’m not interested in him.”

“Then bring out whoever is.” Isaac stepped back to go to the door and waited for any of the men inside to emerge but none did.

“All of a sudden nobody wants him?”

Mickey heard someone say that it wasn’t worth it and part of him was disappointed. He was shaking from the adrenaline and felt like if he didn’t do something, he was going to explode. He flinched when Iggy passed him and went to the van and watched as the redhead, who was visibly shaking and wearing only his underwear, began to stand up. Iggy pointed his gun at him.

“Sit down.” The man slowly obeyed.

“How’d he get here?” Terry asked.

“How’d you get here?” Mickey asked, grabbing the back of Yev’s neck.

“I hid in the- in the van. I hid in one of the cabinets where the towels were.”

“Kevin didn’t check?” Mandy asked.

“I got in after he checked.” He was starting to calm down, his tense body relaxing a little.

“Punishment’s back to doubled.” Mickey said. Yev nodded.

“Okay.”

“Get the bag, Mandy. Dad-”

“Get him home. We’ll talk next time.” Mickey nodded and walked over to the van in time to see Iggy pull out the sedatives Kevin had packed.

“What the fuck is that?” Mickey looked at the redhead, who was about to stand up. Mickey tripped him and knocked him back down to the ground.

“This is the easy way. Would you rather come with us the hard way?” Iggy asked. The man looked at the dead body in front of him and shook his head, reluctantly holding his bound arms out. Iggy slid the needle in without warning and it was over within a second. “Go ahead and get in. Mandy and I can handle this.” Mickey nodded and got into the back of the van, still holding Yev. He sat down on the seat behind the front passenger and repositioned his son so they were more comfortable.

“Why do you do this shit?” He asked quietly. Yev hesitated and shook his head, not knowing what to say. “Your mom’s gonna fucking kill you.” Yev leaned closer to his dad, and Mickey held him tightly as Iggy and his sister loaded the passed out man they’d acquired into the back. Mandy sat across from Mickey, rather than taking the front seat, and Iggy started the van. Mickey watched his sister open the cabinets for the supplies she needed and as she opened the larger one that held the towels, they both saw the space Yev had made for himself by shoving the towels all to one side. Mandy looked at him, an impressed expression on her face, but Mickey couldn’t even smile back. He just buried his face in his son’s hair and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said in the first chapter that when people are up for auction, they're stripped naked but I thought it might be a little odd to have Ian ass naked jumping some dude and beating the shit out of him with his wiener flopping about so I kept his underwear on. Hopefully that's okay with you.


	4. Chapter 2

He’d been conditioned to take in his surroundings before he even opened his eyes, and had it been any other normal situation, that’s exactly what he would’ve been doing. However, it wasn’t any other normal situation. Whatever had been given to him to knock him out was still swimming through his head, fucking with any thought that even attempted to clear itself out. There was a throbbing that also took away his focus, if you could even call it that. He closed his eyes tighter in reaction to the pain and tried to move, which was when he discovered the restraints around his wrists and ankles. He wasn’t really the type to panic, but he thought this would be a time when he would, had he any idea why he should. The muffled humming of voices floating over him caught his attention and he tried desperately to decipher what they were saying, but it took too much energy. He let his mind rest, let his body remain restrained, and let whatever was going to happen to him happen.

He didn’t wake again for another two hours.

His eyes shot open, only to close again after being blinded by a bright light shining down from above him.

“You’re alright.” A woman insisted. He moaned and waited for the aching in his eyes to go away. “Ian?” He kept his head turned to the side and opened his eyes to see a woman standing there. The first thing he noticed was how clean she was. Her dark skin was smooth and her eyebrows had even been groomed. She was beautiful. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw someone so put together. “You hear me?”

“Let me go.” His words slurred together and he made an effort to look around, though his eyes still hurt.

“I will in a little while. Do you know where you are?” He didn’t respond, too focused on the fact that he was in a very clean room. The walls were white and there was equipment everywhere. He looked at his arm and saw the inside of his elbow had been wiped clean. It was only then that he realized just how filthy he actually was. The dirt actually prevented the tape that held a cotton ball to him from sticking properly and it was beginning to lift on one side.

“What’re you doing?”

“We do blood tests. We already took it while you were sleeping. Once the results come back, we’ll go on.”

“Let me go.” He began pulling on the restraints.

“In a while.” She repeated, a little more stern. He looked at her.

“What... The blood?”

“Testing for diseases.”

“What diseases?”

“Any. If anything’s wrong with you, you’ll go into quarantine. We’ll treat you and if you improve, you’ll move to a holding cell where we can get you ready to go into general population.”

“And if I don’t improve?”

“We kill you.” He stared at her. She said it calmly and she was blunt. It wasn’t anything to her to inform him that he might die. She was used to it, and he didn’t like it.

“Alright-” He jumped and looked toward the door to see a man much larger than the woman he’d been talking to. He towered over the table he was strapped to and he found himself tugging a little harder on the cuffs around his wrists, his body pressing harder against the table. “He’s clean.” The woman grabbed Ian’s arm, making him jump.

“Good. Congratulations. He’s gonna fill you in, alright? You’re gonna be fine.” Ian watched her go, not feeling any better after finding out that he wasn’t sick.

“Ian Gallagher.” He jumped again at the sound of his name and looked at the man who pulled a stool over that looked like it should’ve collapsed under his weight. “You escaped your last home-”

“Being sold to a place doesn’t make it my home.”

“You’re not sold, you’re distributed.” The man said, not looking up from the folder he was reading from. “You killed a volunteer at the Round-Up.”

“He grabbed-”

“I don’t care what he did. Volunteers are usually sadistic, anytime something happens, I assume they deserve it.” He turned the page and Ian stared at him while slowly twisting his hand around, trying to get loose. He knew this was a procedure they did, and he knew because of that, that it wouldn’t be easy to get away. He wouldn’t be able to just pull really hard and get free. He began rotating his thumb as he stared at the large man who looked over his folder. “Rebel militia. There’s what I’ve been looking for.” The man got more comfortable and finally looked up from the papers. “You’re a soldier, huh?” Ian bit his lip, holding absolutely still. “Nobody here’s ever been killed by anyone out there so your people never made it around here, I’m assuming.”

“I don’t know where ‘here’ is.” Ian reminded. The man smiled.

“You wanna tell me a little about the militia out there?”

“Not a fucking chance.” The smile never left the man’s face.

“Were you nicer to my wife? I hope you were.” He said calmly. Ian stared at him. “My name’s Kevin. Forgot to introduce myself.”

“Kev!” They both looked toward the door at a blond man holding a piece of paper. While Kevin was looking away, Ian pulled harder on his arm, managing to squeeze his hand free of the restraint before lifting his body and sliding his hand under himself to pop his thumb back into place. He slid his hand under the strap that had been holding it in time for Kevin to turn back toward him.

“Alright. Sorry to say we don’t have any of your blood relatives in our system.” Ian stared at him, not having heard what he’d said. “So, here’s the deal, Ian. You’re clean so what we usually do now is send you to solitary. You’ll be staying in a cell, kinda like lock-up but a little more like home. Once we’re sure you’re not gonna go crazy and kill people, we move you into your apartment and you go on living as a member of the community, alright?” Ian frowned at him.

“Apartment?” Kevin nodded.

“Your home. They’re nothing extravagant. Bedroom, kitchen, living room, and bathroom. There’s time limits on the showers and dishes are only done three times a week. Your first shower won’t be timed so take advantage of it. You’ll be provided food but you’re expected to prepare it yourself. If you need help, just ask and we’ll send someone over. But all that comes later. For now, you’re still gonna be under surveillance. I’d like to talk to you more about your training later when you’re more coherent.”

“I’m coherent now. I’m not talking to you about it.”

“Yes, you are.” Kevin said calmly, writing something in the folder. “Alright, since you’re kind of a tough guy, I’m gonna go get some extra hands to help me take you to solitary. Once you’re there, we’ll get you something to eat, alright?” Ian nodded and watched him get up and walk out of the room. At that point, he sat up quickly, ignoring the spinning in his head as he unbuckled the rest of his restraints and got off the bed, immediately falling to the ground. His legs tingled and he shook them, trying to get the blood flowing so he could walk. Not wanting to wait, he got up and limped out the door, looking around and realizing he had absolutely no idea where he was supposed to go. He listened and heard Kevin’s voice approaching. Running back into the room he came from, he grabbed the stool Kevin had been sitting on and waited by the door.

“Who are we moving?” Another man asked. There was a pause and Kevin stepped in, staring at the empty bed. Ian wasted no time and swung the stool, hitting Kevin in the face and knocking him to the ground. He hobbled over Kevin’s body and grabbed the other man, throwing him on the ground, landing one weak kick to his head before he began running as fast as he could down a hall. He didn’t hear anything. He didn’t see much more than the paths around him, all looking the same. He had no idea how to get out, but when he hit a dead end with a locked door, he turned around and saw the woman he’d seen the night before- the brunette from the Round-Up.

“Having a little trouble?” She asked.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” She smiled and he lunged at her, knocking her to the ground. He barely managed to get his hands around her throat before she kicked her knee between his legs and rolled so she was on top. The punches came quick, which shocked him. He hadn’t expected her to be so vicious. He managed to grab her fist and shove, bashing her elbow into the wall and gaining the upper hand. He threw her down and pinned her with his knees and hands. “How do I get out?” She smiled and he punched her once, making sure to restrain himself. He always felt bad hitting women. “Tell me where the fucking exit is!” She smiled and rested her head back on the floor. He felt the tension leave her body, but before he could say another word, a cold blade pressed against his throat from behind.

“I don’t really have to tell you what to do, do I?” He recognized the voice. It was the man from the night before. The one who had decapitated the man Ian had been fighting. The thought of getting his head sawn off had him removing his hands from the woman he’d been fighting. “Up.” The blade pressed in harder and Ian got to his feet. The pressure didn’t let up and the woman stood, wiping blood from her lip and still looking amused. He flinched as he felt the man behind him lean in, his breath hot against the back of his neck. He rested his chin on Ian’s shoulder. “The absolute only reason you’re not dead and in pieces right now is because of last night.” He said, his voice low and menacing. “If you ever even think about putting your hands on her, or anyone else for that matter, I will chain you to a wall and skin you alive, do you understand me?” Ian didn’t respond and the blade pressed harder, cutting his skin.

“Fuck, yes!”

“Yes what?”

“I understand!” The pressure let up slightly and Ian felt wetness drip down his throat.

“Kev?!” He jumped as the man yelled right next to his ear.

“Yeah-” Came the response down the hall.

“You alright?” Ian watched as Kevin approached, a large cut across the bridge of his nose and both of his eyes already starting to darken.

“Peachy.” He touched the cut between his eyes and looked at Ian. “How the fuck did you get loose?” He looked at the man behind Ian. “That’s fucking impressive. We’re gonna learn some shit from this one.” Ian relaxed as the blade left his throat and he slowly took a step forward.

“Ian.” He turned to the man behind him, and that was all he had time to do. A fist hit the side of his head so hard that everything went black before he could even hit the floor.

When he woke up again, there were no restraints. He was lying on his back, staring up at a plain white ceiling. His head was throbbing and he closed his eyes, feeling defeated.

“Ian Gallagher?” He jumped at the sound of his name, but kept his eyes closed.

“What?” There was no response and when he opened his eyes and looked at the bars, he saw a different woman standing there. She had lighter hair than the woman he’d attacked and her clothes were a little less militant. He slowly sat up, closing his eyes again.

“My husband hit you.” He looked at her, her accent completely different than anything he’d ever heard.

“Yeah he’s a real nice guy.” He reached up and touched the cut on his throat.

“You attacked people. You deserved it.” He nodded and looked away. “Come over here.” He didn’t move, but continued to stare at her. “You want me to say please?” She asked, her voice a little lower. He bit his lip and reluctantly got to his feet. Walking up to her, he saw a small gun in her hand, but it didn’t deter him. He stood a couple feet from the bars that separated them and waited for her to say something. “Why did you save my son?” She waited for him to answer, but he didn’t. “If you had run, you’d be free now.” He nodded. “So why?”

“Because he needed help.” He said it quietly, scared they were being listened to. She nodded.

“Thank you.” He nodded and glanced back at the gun as she slowly put it away. She took a step back and turned to walk away.

“Wait.” She stopped and turned to face him again, not stepping any closer. “Where am I? Which colony?”

“The Compound.” He felt like his blood had turned ice cold. He stepped closer to the bars, automatically trying to mentally determine the distance between himself and her in hopes that he could reach far enough to grab her.

“The Compound?” He asked. She nodded and took another step back.

“You’ve heard of it.” She stated. He nodded.

“I’ve heard.”

“What have you heard?” She asked, sounding somewhat amused.

“Enough to tell you that the second I get out of here, I’m going to kill every fucking one of you.” She nodded.

“You’ll do well here.” Deciding he wouldn’t get a better chance, he lunged at her, his face smashing into the bars as his arm stretched as far as it could, waving and trying desperately to grab onto anything. When he realized it was useless, he backed up and grabbed the bars, shaking them.

“Let me out!” He yelled. The fact that she didn’t so much as flinch infuriated him even more and he began beating on the bars. “Let me the fuck out! I’ll fucking kill you!” The man from before came in calmly, staring at Ian the entire time as the woman walked by him, leaving as if her life hadn’t just been threatened. “You! That’s why it was so fucking easy for you to kill him, huh? Cause you fucking murder people every day, don’t you? You like to fucking hurt kids? Huh?” He shook the bars again. “Why don’t you let me out of here and see how fucking tough you are against someone who can fight back?”

“We already did that, remember? You’re still bleeding.”

“Fuck you, let me out!”

“You just threatened to kill my wife and told her you’d kill every one if you get out-”

“ _When_ I get out.” Ian corrected.

“ _If_.” The man stepped closer and Ian grabbed his wrist. What happened next was so quick, Ian didn’t realize anything was happening until both of his arms were outside the cell, twisted in a way that caused excruciating pain every time he moved. The man leaned down so their faces were level.

“You attacked my best friend, put your hands on my sister, and threatened my wife. My gratitude only goes so far.” Ian closed his eyes, wincing as his wrist was twisted.

“This is the Compound? So you’re the Milkoviches, right?”

“Right. Mickey. The girl you punched, that was my sister Mandy. You’ve heard of us?”

“I’ve heard of you.” Mickey twisted his wrist further and it felt like even the slightest movement would make it snap.

“Listen.” Ian opened his eyes and looked at him. Mickey loosened his grip a little. “You’re this pissed off because of things you’ve only ever heard about.”

“I’ve seen pictures. They showed them to us-”

“You want everyone here dead because you think we hurt kids?” Ian stared at him, wishing he could free his arms and strangle him. Mickey leaned in closer and his calm demeanor actually scared him. “Listen to Kevin when he comes here.” Mickey let go of him and Ian pulled his arms to himself, shaking his wrists. “You want those kids to be safe then help us.”

“What are you threatening me, now? If I don’t do what you say, you’ll kill them?” Mickey smiled and shook his head.

“Just listen to Kevin, you fucking idiot.” Ian watched him walk away and stood there, finally feeling safe to massage his sore wrists. He backed up until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he sat down, staring at the door Mickey had exited through. He was overwhelmed with so many emotions he didn’t know whether to continue trying to escape or simply give up. He wasn’t sure what to expect when it came to one of the most disgusting places he’d ever heard of, but he certainly didn’t expect a sympathetic nurse and mercy from notorious murderers. He paced the cell for what felt like hours until he heard a door open. Walking to the bars, he saw Kevin walking in, the dark circles under his eyes more defined than before.

“Alright.” Ian watched him pull a chair up to the bars, but far enough back that Ian couldn’t grab him. “I’m gonna be flat out honest with you, alright? Sit down, we’re gonna be talking for a while.” Without thinking, Ian obeyed, and sat on the bed, staring at the man in front of him. “They showed you the pictures, right?” He opened a folder and took out a stack of photos. He held them up and flipped through them, showing Ian image after image of dead, bloodied bodies of children and some adults. He was back to being furious. “All these are real. The photos they showed you are real, but what’s not real is what’s shown in them.”

“They’re dead babies.”

“Yes, they are but that’s what I’m here to clear up, Ian.”

“What the fuck is there to clear up?”

“How they died.”

“It’s pretty fucking obvious!”

“No, it isn’t.” Kevin said calmly. Ian watched him sift through the photos until he found one and held it up. “This is a little boy named Lincoln, alright? He was born here. His parents are still here. One day, he went out playing in a field and got bit by a snake. Look at his leg.” Kevin slid the photo over to him and Ian hesitated. Kevin waited patiently until he picked it up and examined it. The boy’s left leg was swollen twice the size of his right. “That’s what killed him.” Ian looked at him and Kevin held up another photo. “Paige. We got her when she was five. Mickey got stabbed fighting to bring her here. She fell off the second story of the barn and broke her neck.” He slid the photo over and Ian looked, seeing bones protruding through the girl’s throat. He looked back at Kevin, who held photos up and listed causes of death. “Macy, pneumonia. Jameson, asthma attack. Eva, drowned.” He tossed the photos at Ian, who gave up on looking at them. “What did they tell you about this place?” He stared back at him defiantly. “This ain’t gonna work if you don’t meet me halfway.”

“You take all the kids from the auction. You bring them here and you torture and kill them, then you send pictures bragging about it.” Kevin nodded.

“You were in the West End.” He didn’t respond. “What did they do to kids there?” He shook his head. “The same thing that they do in the DG. Same thing that happens to them out there in the wild. Beatings, slavery, murder, rape, you name it, right?” Ian nodded. “And there’s no way to stop that, is there? It’s just gonna keep happening. Unless the kids are taken and put somewhere safe.”

“It’s not safe h-”

“We’ve had seventeen murders inside these walls from the beginning. Two were kids, five were the people who killed the kids. The rest were random acts of violence and punishments for those acts.”

“Why are you telling me all this? What’s the fucking point? Do you have one?”

“You want me to get to the point?”

“Yes, I fucking do, alright? Cause you people brought me here, stabbed me with needles, strap me down, lock me up, and you’re sitting out there acting like Mr. Nice Guy and I’m fucking over it.”

“Alright, the bottom line is this place is a fucking play pen.” Ian stared at him. “The only way to keep the kids from the Round-Ups safe is to own them so you have full control, and that’s what the Milkoviches do. They go there and they get every kid they can, and they bring them here because they know that inside these walls, nobody’s gonna hurt those kids.”

“Unless you’re mutilating them.” Kevin sat back in his chair.

“Ian, I just told you they basically collect kids, alright? Week after week, we have more coming in. Over 70% of our population is under twenty years old. 30% are under ten years old. We’ve got kids raising kids and adults so god damned overwhelmed they’re ripping their hair out. The purpose of the photos is to gain a reputation, and we’ve got it. People think behind these walls, it’s murder, torture, and everything horrible 24/7, and we want it that way for one reason- it keeps people away. So when someone dies here, and it happens because that’s the way life is, we take them out and we bloody them up and send the pictures out. Nobody fucks with us and it has to be that way. If anyone comes here to bring this place down, there is no way to protect all of them.” Ian tried to let it all sink in.

“So you send these photos out to scare people into leaving you alone because if you were to be attacked, you have no way of protecting all these kids?” Kevin nodded. “Then you’re not fucking saving them by bringing them here.” He stood up and paced the room, trying to get his thoughts straight. “If all this shit is true- If you’re not bullshitting me, You have gathered every kid you could get your hands on and you’ve stuck them all in one place that has no way of protecting them against an attack. Do you know what people say about this place? They want it gone. Your fucking ‘plan’ is backfiring and because of all your bullshit and your fucking apparent fake reputation, you’ve got people out there gunning for you and sooner or later, it’s gonna fucking happen!”

“Which is why you’ve been given so many chances.”

“I don’t want any part in this! I don’t even know if you’re telling me the truth!”

“I’m telling you the truth. They want you here because of who you were out there. They want you because you’ve been inside another colony and escaped. You know things, you’re skilled, and to be honest, we need help.” Ian stared at him. “You saving Yev, and the way you got so violent when you thought we hurt them cemented it for everyone. You want-”

“I want to leave, alright? That’s what the fuck I want. I want out.”

“You’re not getting out. You live here or you die.”

“Or I get out.”

“You won’t.”

“No? You just told me that you needed me. Me, a nobody from outside. I’ve gotten out of one of these places before. One way more guarded than you apparently are.” Kevin nodded.

“One week.” Ian shook his head.

“What?”

“One week. I’m gonna let you out of here right now, and I’m gonna take you to your new home. You won’t have a job, you’ll have no responsibilities. All I want you to do is spend one week observing things around here.” Ian stared at him in disbelief, still overwhelmed and confused about whether or not he should be trusting what he was being told.

“And when I still want to leave at the end of the week?” Kevin shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s not my department. I’m asking for seven days. Seven days of free showers, food, and housing. You have nothing to lose.” Not wanting to admit how primitive his life had been, Ian hid every sign of excitement when it came to being handed what he usually had to fight for. He’d never even actually had a shower. He stared at Kevin, who stared right back, unwilling to look away, and when Ian nodded once, a smile spread across the larger man’s face and he stood up. “Excellent. I have to warn you, though. You’ve reached your free pass limit. One more outburst and they’re not gonna want you anymore. Keep your hands to yourself.” Ian watched as Kevin unlocked the door. Everything in him told him to run- to shove the door into Kevin and run, but his legs wouldn’t move. He stood still as the door opened wider. “Come on.” He reluctantly followed Kevin out of the cell, through the door, down a hall, down some stairs, and to another door, where they stopped. Kevin turned to him. “I’m not restraining you. There’s kids out there. If they see someone being walked around in handcuffs, they’ll panic. There’s guards on the walls and they’ll be watching so don’t run. Just follow me, alright?”

“You’re worried about handcuffs scaring the kids but you’re gonna threaten me with armed guards?”

“Yes.” They maintained eye contact for a few seconds before Ian shook his head and looked away. Kevin opened the door and Ian squinted, not prepared for how bright it was outside. He watched Kevin take a few steps out the door and then followed, looking around cautiously. There weren’t many people out, but those who were seemed to be pretty carefree, carrying on conversations and laughing. He looked in front of them and saw a few kids running around, laughing and yelling until one of them tackled the other and it turned into a fist fight. “Stop!” Ian jumped at the sound of Kevin’s voice and the boys immediately parted, getting to their feet as they passed. The boys stared at Ian, who stared right back, apparently scaring them as they backed away. None of it was what he expected. The buildings were kept up and looked nice, there were cats and dogs wandering around and even they looked well fed, particularly a seemingly overweight black dog with orange markings on it’s face.

“That’s Becky.” Kevin explained, nodding toward the dog Ian had been watching. “She’s Svetlana’s and will rip your throat out if she’s told to.”

“If she can catch me, or anything-”

“She’s fat, but she’s fast. Don’t fuck with her.”

“If you’re scared of what she’d do to me, why do you have her around kids?”

“She likes kids. You’re gonna stay over here.” Ian looked as Kevin led him to a tall building covered in windows. He followed him inside and up some stairs to a long hallway, walking until they stopped in front of a door. “Okay,” Kevin handed him a key. “Fridge is stocked, remember there’s no time limit on the first shower, so take advantage. Seriously.” Ian looked at him. “If you need anything, you can find at least one of us in the building we just came from, just walk in, it’s never locked. Any questions?” Ian shook his head and Kevin slapped his arm. “One week. Try to loosen up.” With that, Kevin walked away. Ian watched him until he disappeared before putting the key into the doorknob and unlocking it.

“What the fuck...” He muttered, looking around. The apartment was spotless, furnished, and quiet. He closed the door behind himself and continued to look around. It wasn’t until he passed by a mirror that was hanging on the wall that he stopped examining everything around him and looked at himself instead. There wasn’t much room for vanity where he came from and it showed on his face. He was filthy, his hair greasy and tangled, his face rough with stubble and he looked sick. It could’ve had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t eaten much since his capture nearly two weeks prior. He ignored the two front rooms that he’d glanced over and slowly made his way down the hall, straight into another room with a bed he had to stop and stare at. The thin mat he’d been given when he was in the cell talking to Kevin was better than what he was used to, which was primarily just the ground. Constantly being on the go to avoid being attacked and captured didn’t leave room for much of anything and to him, what he’d apparently just been given seemed too good to be true. He opened the top drawer of the dresser that was against the wall and found dozens of identical pairs of folded underwear. The next drawer held socks, the one under that had half white and half black undershirts. He shut them and walked into the bathroom, able to do very little aside from staring at the bathtub. He walked over and reached up to grab the showerhead, pulling it down and looking at it. He remembered what Kevin had said about the shower and reached for the knobs.

The hot water came first and he burned his hand running his fingers under it, then quickly turned the cold on, taking a few seconds to adjust it. He looked at the shower head and back at the running water before he pulled on the knobs he’d just turned, trying to get it to spray out. It took a quick pull on another small knob for it to come shooting out, spraying him in the face.

“Fuck!” He wiped his eyes and stood up straight, putting the shower head back so it was spraying down. He took his clothes off and stepped inside, closing the curtain around the tub. He stepped under the spray cautiously and the second the water hit his shoulders, he felt like his entire body was going to melt. Up until that point, his baths consisted of water heated over a fire that he dipped a rag in and wiped over his body. He stared down at his feet as the water cascading down his body turned brown and circled the drain. He faced the wall and looked at the bottles that were on a small shelf. Picking one of the bigger ones, he poured some into his hand and sniffed it. He used it to clean his entire body, including his face, which he regretted as it got in his eyes and burned. “The fuck is this shit-” He rubbed his eyes as he stuck his face under the running water. “Jesus-”

When it finally stopped burning, he put some of the soap in his hair and scrubbed, not realizing how itchy his scalp was until then. He dug his nails in and got chills, closing his eyes and rinsing his hair. He cleaned everywhere, going so far as to pick at his nails and clean under them. He took the advice he was given and stayed in the shower long after he was clean, enjoying the pressure on his back, shoulders, and his head. He didn’t turn the water off until his fingers became wrinkled and he got tired of standing. stepping out, he saw a towel hanging on the wall and grabbed it, drying his face and hair first, then his body. He left his dirty clothes on the floor and walked out of the bathroom and over to the bed, staring down at it. He pulled the blanket down and lifted it up, looking under it. He thought about walking out to find food, but he found himself dropping his towel and sliding under the blanket instead. There wasn’t anything that could prepare him for how good he felt. His entire body sank into the bed and he pulled the blanket up to his chin, staring up at the ceiling.

A million thoughts raced through his head and he tried to focus on an escape plan, but found it more difficult than it usually was. His aching body had gone limp and his eyes got a little heavier with each blink until he just couldn’t open them anymore, falling asleep buried under the blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes a lot of time to update cause there's a lot of shit to remember and I can pretty much guarantee some continuity problems in the future. Go easy on me I'm constantly tired.
> 
> That being said, I already wrote out the ending before I even fleshed out the beginning or even thought about a middle. It's brutal because I don't know how to write happy endings. That's the only warning you're ever going to get out of me. I love you and have a nice day.


	5. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's shorter, but it's a good place to stop.

He’d spent the rest of the day avoiding their new arrival and everything that had anything to do with him, choosing instead to spend time with his son, who was back to being grounded for a year, maybe ten. Yev had acquired a black eye, a swollen lump on his forehead, and a busted lip, which, after the shock and terror of the whole situation wore off, he seemed to be pretty proud of. There was no doubt in Mickey’s mind that when Yev was eventually allowed to talk to his peers again, likely well into his twenties, he’d embellish the story to make himself seem more heroic and brave than he actually was, which was exactly what Mickey would’ve done at that age. By the time the sun went down, he was asleep with his head in Svetlana’s lap on the living room couch and Mickey had just finished putting together another ice pack for him. He handed it to his wife and sat down next to her as she gently applied it to their son’s forehead, making him stir in annoyance.

“Mom-” He moaned, irritated.

“Shut up and sleep.” She replied, her voice lacking it’s usual bite. Mickey watched him relax and slip back into a deep sleep courtesy of some pain meds provided by Terry the night before. “The man you brought home, I like him.” Mickey shook his head, still staring at his son.

“He’s a fucking asshole. He’s gonna be nothing but a pain in the ass to everyone. Let’s not talk about business.”

“Your sister needs you. She said it’s business.” Mickey closed his eyes. “She called when you were showering, told me to have you meet her in the conference room.” He got up angrily and grabbed his jacket, pulling it on. “You need a vacation.” He scoffed at her and zipped his jacket.

“I need a fucking hole to hide in. I’ll be back later.” She smiled and nodded. As he left, he made sure to lock the door behind him, as he always did. It was cold out, but the skies were clear, which was something he usually liked to have his son outside to witness with him. On particularly rough days, he found it therapeutic to put a blanket out on the roof and stare up at the sky with him. With no lights on and clear air, every constellation was visible and Yev seemed fascinated by the stories behind all of them. When he first showed interest, Mickey made it a point to learn everything he could about the stars so he could be the one to teach his son. It made him feel good to have something to pass down to him that didn’t involve self defense or wilderness survival training.

The walk to the offices was quick, as Mickey, Mandy, and Iggy all made sure they lived close since they’d be making the walk every day and when he got to the conference room, he found his sister slumped down in a chair with Ian Gallagher’s files spread out on the table in front of her. She looked like she was concentrating as she read one of the pages with extremely fine print.

“You checking if he measures up?” He asked. She looked at him, confused, and he nodded toward the 8x10 photos to her left, which documented every inch of Ian’s naked body in explicit detail. She shuffled through them and slid one across the table to him. His curiosity got the best of him and he stepped forward, picking it up. It was a close up photo of Ian’s hip, which was cropped just enough to prevent showing anything more interesting. His eyes fell on the mark his sister wanted him to see- a circle branded into his skin with a tattoo of the number 33 in the center of it. He looked at her, trying to hide any emotions. Mandy was still reading, scanning the papers as if she were searching for information that could save her life. “Is he-”

“You said Tony did a genealogy scan on him but he didn’t find anything.” Mickey put the paper down and nodded, moving around to her side of the table. “Did he check the deceased?” Mickey looked at her. It was rare for her to be so frantic, and in this case she had every right to be.

“We never do, there’s no point.”

“Get him into the lab to run his blood through the death records.” He shook his head.

“Mandy, it’s eleven-”

“I know what fucking time it is, Mickey, get him into the fucking lab to do the scan.” He stared her down for a few seconds and nodded, walking toward the door.

“Is this why you called me out here? Cause you know where he lives, you could go ask him yourself.” She shook her head and looked at him.

“He stole Kev’s knife earlier. Kevin’s sick of dealing with him so I need you to get it back.”

“You can’t handle him?” He teased. She shook her head, no sign of amusement on her face as she looked back at the papers.

“I’m busy.” He nodded, though she wasn’t looking, and left the room. He was curious about the mark, but not fully convinced that it was as authentic as his sister seemed to think it was. After all, anyone could burn their skin and tattoo some numbers. The fact remained that nobody at the Round-Up, though they were free to view the photos and read the files, thought anything of the mark on Ian’s body, meaning it was highly likely none of them knew what it meant, if it was real. Had they any idea, the riot that happened that night would’ve been caused by people fighting over him. He felt a little excitement at the thought of it, about what it could mean, and he walked a little faster to the building Ian was housed in.

Having been the one to make the final decision to bring him home, Mickey was in charge of deciding where Ian would live. He chose a building with no children, on a floor with no women. The halls were monitored by cameras 24/7 for everyone’s safety and he was sure his sister had turned on the screen to watch as he approached the door. It wasn’t Ian’s he knocked on first and as he waited outside, he felt somewhat guilty for being about to bark orders so late at night. When Tony answered the door, he was in his underwear, looking exhausted.

“Hey, Mickey.” He said, his voice proving that he had been asleep.

“Sorry for waking you up. We kinda have an emergency and need another test done in the lab.” Tony’s eyes narrowed. “It’s Mandy. She’s stuck on this idea and needs you to run Gallagher’s blood through the dead list to see if there’s any relatives.” Tony nodded.

“Not a problem. The computer does most of the work, I just gotta set it up. Should be done pretty quick.” Mickey nodded.

“Thanks.” He turned to Ian’s door and knocked.

“What’s he up to?” Tony asked. Mickey looked at him and shrugged.

“The usual. Stealing shit, causing trouble.”

“I have ears.” Ian said, annoyed on the other side of the door.

“Open up.” Mickey replied sternly.

“You need any help, let me know. The fucker got a pretty decent kick in when he got away. I’ve still got a headache.” Mickey nodded as Tony closed his door. He heard the rattling of the chain lock before Ian opened the door a couple inches and peeked out.

“I didn’t even kick him that hard.” He explained.

“I honestly don’t give a shit. Give me Kevin’s knife.” Ian stared at him a little longer than he needed to before shaking his head.

“What knife?”

“Okay, I’m gonna lay some shit out for you, alright?” Mickey asked calmly. Ian nodded.

“Okay.”

“You know what happened when we picked you up. You saw it all and it was a little bit of a clusterfuck, right?” Ian nodded. “Okay, and during that clusterfuck, my son kinda got the shit kicked out of him. Then, we had to deal with the bullshit you pulled during processing. I finally got to go home and be with my family, and I get a call to come here because you can’t keep your hands out of other peoples’ pockets. So, put yourself in my shoes. After all that, all I wanna do is go home and be with my kid, but I’m here with you lying to my face about something that could be resolved in a matter of seconds.” Ian continued to stare, looking away only to look at Tony as he left his apartment.

“Nice bruise.” He said. Mickey closed his eyes in frustration.

“Oh, you like it?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

“Awesome. I’ll give you one tomorrow so we can match.”

“Can’t wait. Bye.” Tony grabbed Mickey’s shoulder.

“If you need me.” He reminded. Mickey nodded and Tony left.

“He your boyfriend or something?” Mickey looked at him.

“Give me the knife.”

“What knife?” Ian asked again. Something in Mickey’s head snapped and his rage took over. He kicked the door open, snapping the chain. Barging passed Ian, he stomped down the hall, through the bedroom, and into the bathroom. He grabbed the heap of dirty clothes and squeezed the pockets, searching for the knife. “Hey.” He looked at Ian and felt a tiny burst of air as the knife was embedded in the doorframe next to his face. Having been fascinated with knives his whole life, and very good at throwing them, he was actually impressed by what Ian had done, but wouldn’t dare show it. He pulled the knife out and stood up. He walked passed Ian again. “What’s it like some kind of family heirloom or something? It doesn’t look like anything special.”

“Nobody’s business but his.” Mickey said, not turning around as Ian followed him. He reached the door and spun around, the knife in front of him, after Ian grabbed his shoulder. Being prepared for a fight, he was a little dumbfounded to see Ian standing with his hands in front of himself, defensive.

“I’m not gonna try anything.” He assured.

“And I believe you, because you’ve been so honest all this time.” Ian lowered his hands, but Mickey kept the knife out, ready to attack if he needed to.

“I um... It’s not really easy for me to...” Ian actually looked uncomfortable, which was strangely comforting to Mickey.

“What?” He asked, annoyed.

“There’s food everywhere and there’s meat in the, uh-” He pointed into the kitchen.

“The fridge.”

“Yeah.” It was strange to Mickey that anyone could not know what such common appliances were called, but having lived outdoors all his life, there really wasn’t any way that Ian would actually know.

“I don’t know how you people cook.” Mickey stared at him, finding himself more interested. He thought about how primitive Ian’s life must’ve been. “You don’t have to tell me but maybe sometime in the next week someone could stop by, cause the other food will last a long time and I don’t have to cook it and-”

“Sit over there.” Mickey pointed the knife at the table and Ian uncharacteristically obeyed right away, sitting down and watching. Mickey remained defensive as he walked to a drawer and pulled it open. “Pans.” He said, holding one up. Ian nodded and Mickey walked to the stove. “Put it on here and turn this-” He turned one of the dials. “Keep it on the first line until-” The clicking noise stopped and he saw Ian jump slightly when blue flames erupted from the stove. “Make it high or low, it doesn’t matter.” He walked over and grabbed a bottle from the cupboard. “Put some of this in the pan or the meat’s gonna stick to it.” He poured some in and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not gonna cook dinner for you. That’s what you do. You put the meat in the pan and you cook it til it’s done. When you’re finished, turn the dial back til the flame’s gone. Don’t leave it on, don’t walk away when you’re cooking something. If you burn this place down, I’ll take you outside and set you on fire, too.” Ian nodded, his previous cocky attitude seeming to have been replaced by anticipation as he continuously glanced at the pan. “Got it?” He nodded again and Mickey walked passed him, toward the door.

“Thank you.” Mickey stopped in his tracks. He considered responding, but decided against it, choosing instead to leave the apartment. He closed the door behind him, grateful that he hadn’t actually damaged anything but the chain when he kicked it open. He left the building and stood outside, wondering if he should return the knife to Kevin or go back to the offices to see if Tony had started what he was asked to do. Having had enough of Ian for one day, he decided to head to Kevin’s apartment to return the knife. Though he’d made his decision to avoid thinking of the newest member of their community, he couldn’t get the thought of Ian out of his head. The fact that he didn’t know how to cook in a kitchen baffled him. He went on to wonder if he even knew how to use a toilet. It was pretty self explanatory, so the thought thankfully left his mind rather quickly. He was at Kevin’s doorstep, knocking on the door before he felt his pockets and realized the knife wasn’t there.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” The door opened and Kevin stood there, obviously having just woken up. Mickey looked at him, his head tilted in frustration.

“I know, right?” Kevin asked.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s cool. The twins just went down, I was barely asleep at all.” Mickey waved his arm in the direction of Ian’s apartment.

“I got your knife and I fucking forgot it.” Kevin yawned.

“Did you get distracted? Lost in those dreamy eyes of his?”

“Fuck you. I’ll be right back.” He turned back toward Ian’s apartment.

“Just keep it til morning. If I don’t sleep I’m gonna drop to the ground before I walk through the office doors tomorrow.” Mickey nodded as he heard a baby start to cry from inside Kevin’s apartment. He walked backward, biting his lip. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Run.” Kevin warned. Mickey turned around and headed back to where he came from. His fuse was shorter than it had been and he walked faster to Ian’s door, a bit of panic rising as he smelled something burning. He didn’t bother knocking, choosing instead to walk in without warning. When he looked in the kitchen, he found Ian looking stunned with a fork in his mouth. Mickey’s eyes fell on the piece of meat on the plate in front of him, which was solid black on the outside and nearly bleeding on the inside.

“I forgot the-” Ian pointed to the opposite side of the table where Kevin’s knife was sitting. Mickey grabbed it and motioned to the food Ian was eating. “You’re gonna eat that?” Ian looked at it, still chewing.

“It’s good.”

“It’s burned.” Ian put his fork down and sat back.

“Is there anything else you wanna criticize? Cause you should just lay it all on me at once.”

“I’m not criticizing, I’m informing-”

“Cause it’s my first fucking time cooking on one of those and-”

“I’m not criticizing!”

“Fuck, just take the fucking knife and leave me alone!” Ian said angrily. Tony peeked his head in the open door from the hallway.

“Everything okay in he-”

“Go away!” The two of them yelled simultaneously. Tony nodded and backed out. Both of them listened as he went back into his apartment.

“You gotta fucking pick at everything.”

“Fuck it, then-” Mickey turned to leave and Ian stood up.

“You don’t know what slack is, do you? Tact, maybe? You’re making me feel like a fucking animal.”

“Well, you are, so-” Mickey shrugged.

“You know what? Fuck you. Fuck everyone here, alright? I’m doing what you asked me to do-” Mickey held the knife up.

“Cause we asked you to steal shit-”

“I’m in here minding my own fucking business and you can’t even walk in and walk out without throwing some kind of bullshit comment my way, like you’re trying to piss me off. And you wanna stand there calling me an animal when you’re the one walking around thinking you can own another human being. That’s pretty fucking primitive if you ask me.”

“Yeah, well nobody asked you, so-”

“No, nobody asked me. Just like nobody asked me before they ripped me away from my family, who I was taking care of.” Mickey stared at him, having nothing to say as Ian grew increasingly more hysterical. “And nobody asked before they ripped my fucking clothes off and took pictures of me, then chained me up and sold me to the highest bidder. Nobody ever fucking asks me because maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just a fucking animal but what the _fuck_ does that say about you?” He was in Mickey’s face now, yelling as if he were hoping Mickey would throw a punch, but for the first time since Ian had arrived, he didn’t want to hit him. He was actually making sense and, though Mickey would never admit it, he was right. He waited for Ian’s anger to visibly fade a bit, and held his ground. He stared him down, watching tears fill his eyes, but he knew they were there out of anger, not fear or sadness. He was smart enough to know that if he said a single word, he was going to get hit, and there would be another fight. With a knife in his hand, he couldn’t guarantee that the fight would end with both of them alive, so he talked himself down, swallowed his pride, and took a step back. Ian’s anger didn’t subside and it wasn’t going to as long as Mickey was there, so he turned and walked out the door, shutting it again. Standing in the hall, he heard Ian lock the door, which was honestly pointless seeing as how he and his siblings had a key to every apartment. It was a few seconds later before he heard a loud crash from inside the apartment, which was just noisy enough to make him jump. He resisted the urge to knock on the door again, choosing instead to leave the building and go back to the offices.

“Okay, next time he needs to be dealt with, someone else is going, cause he and I aren’t mixing well at all-” He froze in his tracks when he walked into the conference room and found Mandy, who was sitting in her chair, her forehead resting on her hand as she stared down at a piece of paper, crying. “What the fuck-” She looked at him and quickly wiped her eyes. He didn’t move from the doorway.

“I told Tony to go home cause the computer was almost done scanning and it hadn’t found anything.” He took a couple steps closer and pulled a chair out, sitting down across from her. She shook her head and wiped under her eyes again. “His name... I mean, you know-” She said, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s not unusual but... I had to know.” She laughed sadly at herself. “I just had to fucking know.”

“Know what?” He asked, scared of the answer. She sat up straight and gathered a few pages, sliding them across the table to him. The one on top was a page with a picture of Ian. Underneath were his vitals information. Under relatives, N/A. He flipped to the second page, which was nearly identical, except there was a name in the place where N/A had been. Next to the name, a percentage. He shook his head and flipped to the third page, which had a picture of Ian next to another photo from the archives of dead citizens. There were numbers listed that Mickey understood, but was too worn out to comprehend. He looked at Mandy for an explanation.

“He’s Lip’s half brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written so much brutal violence for this story and it's likely I'm going to apologize to you after every chapter, even if nothing violent has happened yet because I'm so sorry. Thank you all for the kind words, it really helps motivate.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. This won't be abandoned, it's just on hold for a bit while I finish my other story. Thanks for reading!


End file.
